I am basically running on empty right now, so the tears in my eyes might be my utter emotional exhaustion, but oh my goodness how wonderful does the Where the Wild Things Are movie look? It seems I have not learned from the Narnia movies, the Golden Compass movie, or any of the other vast, intense literary loves of mine that have been chewed up and destroyed by Hollywood, because I am holding onto some hope for this. Maybe it will get to be in the column of Series of Unfortunate Events and Holes in terms of quality adaptations, rather than the, uh, Prince Caspian column.
I’ve been up here at All Saints for three and a half hours studying for my Greek test next week and I think my brain has turned into jelly and is oozing out through my ears, but in another half an hour I get to go have a drink at Fermentation Lounge with my friend Selena and the rest of my band of scallawags.
Then tonight I’m going to watch the Sense and Sensibility miniseries with John, which should be cool, except that my use of the term scallawag just there has given me a real urge to break out the Mount Gay and watch Pirates of the Caribbean. Hmm. Perhaps I should bank on the already-insane popularity of the not-yet-published Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and write Sense and Sensibility and Pirates, so future generations can combine the pleasure of Regency romance and swashbuckling.
Holy crap, nobody steal my stolen idea, OK? That actually sounds awesome. Yarr!
A few days ago I was in a place of rage regarding my veganism, but I’m much more serene about being a vegan who wants to live in the world as a normal person. I’ve realized what was making me so wrathful was the place I’ve put myself in over the years around non-vegans worrying that if I was honest around them they would stop liking me. Maybe that’s the case but I don’t really care anymore. I realize now that for my own peace of mind I need to work on asserting myself more regarding my ethical stance when it comes to my boundaries, and so I’m going to try to do that. And if that loses me some friends so be it because this is who I am.
For example, I have two meat-eating friends that I hang out with pretty regularly at either my house or my friend Raechel’s house. Raechel is also vegan and while she allows non-vegan food in her house she requests that her cookware remain vegan, which is obviously completely reasonable because it is hers. One of these two friends, having some dietary restrictions of his own, is sympathetic to her rule of vegan cookware and my rule of no non-vegan stuff in my house. The other is pretty disrespectful of our choices, lifestyle, ethics, and rules. I say “pretty” and not “entirely” because while he will abide by the rules, he makes a fucking scene about it every time. I tolerate this because he is a very lovable person otherwise, but when I invited him to my house a few weeks ago I asked a friend to remind him of the vegan rule beause I was too afraid to do it myself.
That place of meekness, I realize, will cause me to inherit nothing but anger, and I need to fight my own battles. I think my irritation with being an “Olive Branch Vegan” was not with being diplomatic, because I really actually enjoy talking to people about veganism in certain contexts and being the vegan people feel comfortable coming to with questions, and all that. My frustration was borne of subverting my passion regarding animal rights and my own lifestyle in order to avoid any awkwardness that comes of me taking this moral stance. The awkwardness is unavoidable, I now realize. And I need to be OK with that.
I’ve had some really rotten experiences over the years as a vegan, as I think most vegans have: some from my family, who have thankfully mellowed in their aversion to my chocies; some from colleagues, who have been complete buttholes to me; some from friends who have hurt my feelings inadvertently (thankfully this last group is very small). I am actually incredibly lucky to have such a sturdy support structure and good friends. My rage wasn’t about them, it was about me, and my own decisions that have led me to what I perceive as a path of moral invisibility. I’ve worked out a lot of that rage and feel a lot better about it now.
Despite my negative rantings and insanity this morning, I am always continuously amazed and grateful when non-vegans are sympathetic, understanding, and considerate of my world view, especially strangers. I got this email in my inbox this morning from Omerica Organics, a company that makes sustainable, environmentally-friendly, beautiful hardwood plugs. I asked if they could make their plugs without beeswax, and this was the response:
That is no problem at all. We finish our plugs so smooth that they do not require the wax, we just do it for a nice finish. We recommend using jojoba oil to care for your plugs anyway, and we can most certainly finish your plugs with the jojoba instead. We have had this request before, and it is not a big deal for us. All you have to do is order your plugs. Then, when you get to the checkout page, there is a box for special requests. Just type "Please do not use beeswax to finish, jojoba oil is fine though". That note will be printed on your order, and the plug makers will be sure to not use the wax.
Cynics might cry capitalism but I don’t care. These people will be receiving business from me sometime soon. And I resolve, from here on out, to remember this, and more, when I sometimes feel like the world is out to drive me insane.
Intersections in research are always fascinating, and I was lucky that when I was finding out how to make my own kombucha I found out about another awesome fermented beverage called kvass, which I was subsequently able to use as a nice piece of atmospheric detail in the novel I’m working on. Woo! A scintillating threeway to be sure. Since then I’ve wanted to make my own kvass but the recipes I found seemed to differ wildly and I was afraid of poisoning myself if I made a wrong step. Recently, however, I’ve obtained a copy of a not-written-by-some-possibly-insane-person-on-the-internet recipe for kvass and plan on starting my first batch this weekend, as I am now officially on spring break and can attend to any sort of evil that might ensue in my kitchen during the fermenting process.
Spring break! Woo!
Sometimes I feel like I am getting worse at Greek instead of getting better. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me recently, but everything seems cumbersome and nothing is fun. I don’t know why I’m doing this, spending so much time and effort on this language that only beats me like a dog in return. I’m leaving school after this year and I know myself, I know I won’t continue on with this. I get frustrated too easily. So that’s leaving me puzzling over why the holy hell I’m bothering. Bleh.
I suppose my pleasure in such things as lolcats and other low internet comedy explains my delight in this meme I read about on the Onion’s A.V. Club blog. Wikipedia names your band, first album, and Flickr provides the artwork. Here’s the deal: